


under his skin

by awkwardspaceturtle (CastelloFlare)



Series: captive red lion [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Footjob, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastelloFlare/pseuds/awkwardspaceturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeping the thief known as the Red Lion shackled in his private quarters was like taking a feral cat home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	under his skin

**Author's Note:**

> and so the semi-aladdin au porn ensues  
> i waited until the weekend came around  
> i just couldn't do smut at work lmao (though i've been slacking off to do fluff)  
> anyways, thank you for clicking on this, and i hope you enjoy~

  
Keeping the thief known as the Red Lion shackled in his private quarters was like taking a feral cat home, Shiro noted on the first morning they spent as captive and captor.

The filthy street rat had tried to claw every servant that tried to give him food through the bars of his cage – not even the chain around his neck and ankles stopped his fierce spirit. Eventually Shiro decided that he himself should be the one to put the tray inside, as no human could put a scratch on his Galra-tech arm, yet this did not make the runt any less aggressive. Whenever he neared the barred enclosure, he would be greeted by a menacing hiss and a hateful glare.

He would also refuse to touch the food in front of anyone, despite the grumbling noises that came from his stomach. The plate would remain untouched for the longest time, but would be spotless and empty once Shiro came back from duty, or whenever he came out of the bath. Sometimes he’d even hear the street rat eating with such animalistic hunger once the lights were out and he’d thought Shiro was sound asleep. Over time, Shiro had resolved to hitting the bed early, despite not really being bogged by fatigue, just so his captive would eat his grub.

The Red Lion’s message was clear.

He would not _yield_.

 

  


Whenever the Red Lion wasn’t feeling so aggressive or violent, he was pretty tame – and that was only when he would be sleeping. Most of the time, Shiro would wake first, and he would get to enjoy the placidity of an early Altean morning, as well as the rare sight of the little thief curled up into a ball and without the usual scowl decorating his youthful and fairly appealing face.

One such morning allowed Shiro this luxury. He woke up, eyes fluttering open to a dimly lit room, the first rays of the sun filtering through the curtains. He had woken up to the side facing the cage, and he was greeted with the calm, albeit dirt-stricken, face of the thief infamous for being called the Red Lion. He looked like the kid he would probably never grow up to be – vulnerable and delicate.

As if in a dreamy haze, Shiro detached himself from the exquisite Altean sheets and felt the chill of the cold morning air on his skin. He always slept sans clothing, still uncomfortable in the garments the Galra Empire had clothed him with. Even after a year had passed, from clawing his way out of imprisonment and slavery to becoming the official guardian of the Galran Emissary Thace, he was still quite resentful of anything Galran. He would probably always be.

Even if the ‘ _anything Galran_ ’ included a part of his anatomical body.

Taking a blanket and draping it over his well-chiseled physique, he quietly walked over to the cage where his feral cat remained coiled on the ground, who had refused to even use the cot placed inside. Assuming a fetal position, the Red Lion’s head was gingerly cradled by both arms, his legs pulled up to his chest. Absently, Shiro’s human hand reached through the bars and gently caressed the top of the street rat’s head.

As if he had triggered a land mine, Shiro’s touch roused the sleeping feline – and turned him into his usual angry and savage lion. Apparently, old habits never die, and his prisoner had slept with one eye open, just as he’d always probably had after a lifetime of living on the streets.

Shiro’s quiet sunrise had crumbled, just like that.

Unusually colored yet brightly lit eyes stared back at Shiro – the Red Lion was finally awake, and bared its sharp molars at him.

Contrary to the desired effect expected of him, this display of hostility did nothing to alarm Shiro. He’s the Champion, for crying out loud – he’d faced and outmatched much more aggressive and fearful monsters more than the galactic police can apprehend in a decade. Also, he knew the pain and anger and emptiness that came with being imprisoned. His response to the antagonistic morning greeting was a gentle smile.

“What’s your name?”

Momentarily, the Red Lion seemed taken aback, his snarl faltering around a tick, and his eyebrows furrowed this time in curiosity, but as quickly as he wore this much rarer expression, it also disappeared in a couple of seconds. His glare became much more menacing.

“I’m just honestly curious,” Shiro prodded. “How should I call you?”

For another moment, the young thief just eyed him ominously, refusing to give him any information. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“You probably hear others calling me Champion,” he continued. “My real name’s Shiro.”

Then, suddenly, the Red Lion gave out a huff.

“I’m not giving you my name,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I won’t give you the right to _own_ me.”

The first reaction Shiro had was surprise – finally, he’d spoken. Finally, he acknowledged him enough to respond with not only grunts and sneers or jabs this time.

The other thing Shiro registered was an unspoken truth. The burning fire in the street rat’s eyes let Shiro understand – his name was only reserved for people he trusts; people he loves, people who he’d give his life to. He wasn’t the type to easily offer his given name, especially not to this alien and oppressive race. If he was captured as the Red Lion, he would gladly die as the Red Lion.

The edge of Shiro’s lips curled up into a small smile.

“You’re not anyone else’s,” Shiro said as he slowly stood up. “You’re just _yours_.”

Then he walked towards one of the bedside tables and removed a ring of copper keys from its drawer. He threw the ring inside the cage, and it slid on the floor to where the street rat crouched, purple eyes eyeing the new object with curiosity and disbelief. Then he looked up at Shiro, face set with the same intensity as before, except this time, the snarl was replaced by an expression filled with incredulity and confusion.

“I said I wouldn’t take any prisoners,” Shiro said quietly, and without another word or a look back at the cage, he disappeared behind the curtain adjoining the bath.

 

  
He knew the difference between attraction and mere carnal arousal. There was something about this runt that awoke both things inside him, and yet he could not point out why. Was it the fierceness of his spirit that refused to yield even when in captivity? Was it the fire and passion in his eyes that reflected his own hate for the Galra? Or was it the rare quiet moments between his violent tendencies that made him all the more alluring?

Whatever it was, however unexplainable, the feeling was strong. He knew this boy was going to be dangerous to him.

That was one of the reasons he had to let the runt go.

He knew that, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at seeing his empty room, void of any other living creature. A window was open, the morning breeze of the Altean kingdom of Agrabah blowing the curtains away; rays of sunlight seeping in and bathing the room in a vibrant and relaxing golden light, casting faint shadows on Shiro’s face, neck, chest, shoulders and torso, and every inch of his skin that wasn’t covered with a drying cloth.

He had not realized how much he had grown used to sharing his space with another human.

Suddenly, something seemed to sizzle like kinetic electricity in the air, and Shiro’s razor sharp senses moved his body to action before he could even mentally assess the situation – something was falling from the ceiling, a shadow, and Shiro just managed to evade it – save his cyborg hand, his bionic wrist enveloped by coiled chains.

Before him, the Red Lion bared his fangs once more.

 

  
“You’re human aren’t you? Why the hell are you with _them_?”

The Red Lion’s voice dripped with so much acid; the resentment and anger in his eyes could burn through steel. Shiro regarded him calmly.

“You do not want to do this,” Shiro said, his voice and expression even. “I’m telling you, this isn’t a smart move. Why didn’t you run away when you had the chance?”

“I didn’t run away; you let me go – and yet either is a defeat I cannot accept,” the street rat growled, his voice low. “And I’m the one asking the questions here. You better answer me or I’ll rip your hand off.”

Then he paused, as if his focus had rested on the said anatomical part, its silent yet steady whirring faint yet not unheard. Shiro imperceptibly winced, the memory of the Galran experiment fresh yet much unwelcomed in his mind.

“And your arm – it’s not normal,” the young thief continued, repulsion and fear on his face. “You’re obviously human, yet your arm isn’t. Are you slowly trading your body for alien parts? Are you that hung up on power?”

Shiro said nothing. His vision was dimming, trauma’s crafty fingers lacing his heart. The air in his lungs was seemingly getting thinner.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Red Lion said impatiently. Then he hissed, and this time, with much more poison in his voice: “Answer me, you _Galran dog_.”

Something snapped inside Shiro. Whatever it was that prevented him from shoving his captive back into the cage was gone. He felt empty, hollow, except for the anger bubbling inside his chest. Suddenly he spoke, his voice low and quiet, his words altogether a warning and a threat.

“You know _nothing_ about me.”

With effortlessness brought by both grace and strength, he pulled on the chains, and with it, dragged the Red Lion towards him. Without giving him so much as a chance to recover and retaliate, Shiro hoisted his slender yet muscled body over his shoulder, and trudged towards the direction of the bath.

 

  
“What are you doing!?”

The young thief squirmed and writhed in the cramped space of the tub, Shiro standing naked at the opposite end but with one foot gingerly yet authoritatively set on his taut stomach, locking him in place. All pieces of garments were discarded on the tiled floor along with the chains, and water was running from the tap, filling the uncapacious tub with warm water.

“Get off me—” the angry complaints were abruptly cut off when Shiro’s foot trailed down to rest between his pair of legs. The body under him had suddenly tensed, arms flexing and hands clutching tightly at the sides of the tub.

Shiro had thought about it the first night they’d met, but now with the street rat mirroring the same expressions he once had that time under his touch, the Champion had finally confirmed it – this young man had never been touched intimately, not by anyone before _him_.

Shiro’s foot moved lazily on the thief’s enlarging anatomy, and he noted that with even the slightest of movements, he was able to arouse the considerably sensitive body before him. With every nudge of his foot on the swelling genetalia, the slender body would jump from the bottom of the tub, raspy breaths coming in rapidly from his chest where erect nipples showed themselves shamelessly.

Shiro felt a flicker of satisfaction, his anger slowly getting replaced with the sudden rising tide of his own carnal desires. Apparently, the notorious Red Lion could be quite submissive, albeit only physically. The Champion removed his foot, turned the tap off, and crouched down from where he stood, and set his huge ripped body over the Red Lion’s much more slender yet taut frame, looming over him.

Now without the sensation of another man’s skin on his crotch, the Red Lion looked up through angry half-lidded eyes at Shiro. “So you’ve showed your real intentions,” he breathed, pleasure still fresh on his features in the form of the reddening of his cheeks. “ _This_ is why you’ve been keeping me.”

Without taking his eyes off him, Shiro took the young man’s hands from the sides of the tub, and wordlessly guided them to rest on his own face.

“Does this feel human to you?” He asked, his expression unreadable.

The Red Lion’s eyebrows furrowed together in suspicion and confusion, and he did not answer. Not waiting for a reply either, Shiro guided the hands down to his well-defined clavicle and then over his heart. The body beneath him flinched at the contact – as if shocked at the sensation of another man’s nipples and chest.

“Does _this_ feel human to you?” Shiro asked again, his eyes not leaving the purple orbs before him. He could see surprise and understanding begging to cloud those eyes now, as if the Red Lion had finally understood what he wanted to say.

“No matter how I’ve been altered, no matter what did to my body, I would never let them touch me at my core – and that is being human. That part will never change. They have taken something from me – _a lot_ of things, actually – and I haven’t forgiven them for it. I never will.”

The sincerity in his own eyes probably did it – suddenly, somehow, the Red Lion’s expression turned soft, ashamed, sympathetic. His hands, which rested against Shiro’s chest, had become steady and flat, as if listening to his heartbeat by mere touch alone. Shiro swallowed, relief washing over him. Something inside of him told him that they seemed to have reached an understanding, somehow.

“You’re not lying,” came the young thief’s rather quiet voice, so quiet that it stunned Shiro momentarily to hear his captive speak. “Your heartbeat tells me so.”

Shiro felt his face and chest warm at the unexpected gentle expression of the face before him. He didn’t see this sudden development happening any time soon, and he felt himself getting flustered over such a trivial thing. Before his heartbeat could accelerate its pace, he guided the Red Lion’s hands even lower – down to his now aching erection.

The young thief visibly flinched at the contact of his fingers and the huge throbbing shaft, but he made no move to retract his hands from Shiro’s now relaxed grip. His eyes trailed from Shiro’s massive chest, down to his chiseled stomach, to the breadth of black hair trailing from his abdomen to his groin. He swallowed.

Shiro leaned in closer, close enough that his breath tickled his ear and made his cheeks burn.

“Does _this_ feel human to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUST PORN I SWAER  
> but somehow my mind said  
> "okay, but consider this: PLOT"  
> and that's why it's only semi-porn
> 
> p.s. also furk the pronoun game
> 
> thank you for reading!  
> also, comments, feedback and kudos are love :D


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